


Knowledge of Defeat

by Clocketpatch



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Community: eleventy_kink, Missing Scene, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-08
Updated: 2013-10-08
Packaged: 2017-12-28 19:06:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/995459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clocketpatch/pseuds/Clocketpatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In-between scene from the Name of the Doctor. The Great Intelligence will go to any lengths to gain entrance to the Doctor's tomb. The Doctor will go to any lengths to stop it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Knowledge of Defeat

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure it's non-con exactly, but I'm going on the premises that if you have to think about whether it is or isn't then it probably is. That said, this isn't an explicit fic, just disturbing. Originally posted on the meme, but edited slightly in transition to tighten things up a bit.
> 
> * * *

Chapter 1: Wit, Doctor?

**Author's Notes:** I'm not sure it's non-con exactly, but I'm going on the premises that if you have to think about whether it is or isn't then it probably is. That said, this isn't an explicit fic, just disturbing. Originally posted on the meme, but edited slightly in transition to tighten things up a bit.

* * *

  
"What is your name?"

Black-gloved fingers close around the Doctor's jaw. Dr. Simeon doesn't breathe, but the Doctor can still feel the cold rushing out from between the monster's lips. The fingers squeeze and force the Doctor to meet the Intelligence eye-to-eye, but the physical motions are just for show.

The Great Intelligence is a mind without a body. It pries its way through the cracks in the Doctor's mental armour, searching for the hidden vaults where the great secrets are kept.

"Doctor _who_?

The Doctor is skilled at this game. A millennium and more of experience has taught him how to deal with possession attempts. He builds walls, slams doors, seals up cracks.

"You will not keep me out, Doctor. You will tell me your name."

He shuts down non-essentials and makes sacrifices. If this is where he dies, then he will die on his own terms and take the Great Intelligence with him. He builds a prison and invites Dr. Simeon to take a tour of the cells.

"How… quaint," Dr. Simeon says. His sneer never alters. He circles the Doctor in the bare, metal chamber. Strange symbols flash on the walls, fragments of Gallifreyan script, thoughts struggling at the edge of suppression.

"I will not open my tomb," the Doctor says.

The walls flash with pictures of torment, silver lines and cybernetic insects. Dr. Simeon curls his lip.

"You're like a dog, returning to vomit. You've used this room before, recently, and you haven't bothered to clean-up the mess. Your mind is weak and riddled with fault-lines. Do you think for one moment that you can hold me here?"

The Doctor smiles. It is equal parts defeat and hope.

"No, but perhaps a moment will be enough."

"Enough to what? _Doctor_ — to save your friends? To save yourself? I will relish your defeat. As I will relish this."

Dr. Simeon lunges at the Doctor, again grasping at his throat, pushing him to his knees. The walls of the mental prison waver, projected memories bend backwards at weird angles, rivets pop and groan. The Doctor grabs at Dr. Simeon's hands, trying to break the grip, but the Intelligence is too strong, too strong —

"Your name," Dr. Simeon says.

The Doctor doesn't answer, but his breathing is hard and ragged. His fingers are tingling and black spots are dancing. Dr. Simeon is dragging through his memories, searching for the secret, going further and further back. Lumbering robotic Yeti tramp across the walls and the Great Intelligence screams into the Doctor's face,

"What is your name?"

The Victorian aloofness is an easily parted veneer. The Great Intelligence roars like an animal. The Doctor is kicked, punched, beaten to the floor of his mental prison. The Doctor curls into the fetal position and takes the attacks. He whimpers when Dr. Simeon lays a cold, ungloved hand on his neck, but he doesn't fight back. The frost spreads and he nearly cries, but he doesn't fight back.

Dr. Simeon straddles the Doctor and reaches inside him, pressing effortlessly through clothing and flesh, causing pain for the sake of it. The Doctor remains quiet. He refuses to divert any energy towards resisting; he knows it is all a distraction, a way to make him lower his guard, to clear the way to his secret.

_It won't work_

"You continue smiling," Dr. Simeon says, "Do you enjoy this perhaps?"

"Not particularly," the Doctor says, gasping at the effort of forming words.

"Yet, you seek out pain, throughout your lives."

"I don't seek it, more of an occupational hazard."

"Yes, I see. The lie name you tell your friends. _Doctor_ , poor Doctor, always finding pain and death wherever he goes. Of course, it isn't his fault, because he didn't cause the pain; he's only there to heal. And yet, one might find it suspicious that when I sink in my nails and sink in my teeth you scream, but inside I can hear you laughing."

"Can you? Because I can't," the Doctor says, blood dripping from his lip.

"Why are you so pleased, when I am on the brink of breaking your mind?"

The Doctor continues smiling. Bruised, bloody, passive. "Maybe it's because I'm winning?"

The Great Intelligence retreats, glaring at the Doctor. "You plan to kill yourself with me inside your mind?"

"It did take you an exceptionally long time to figure that out. With a name like 'Great Intelligence' one really would expect you to be a bit quicker on the uptake."

"Doing so would not destroy me. My main aspect is still safely outside of this mindscape. You could obtain no possible benefit."

"No, _I_ couldn't," the Doctor says, and suddenly he is on his feet again, strong and unblemished. The rips in his clothing are repaired. The walls of the cell quiet until they reflect nothing but dull steel. "I will die, and you will continue your rampage across the universe, but you will not gain entry to my tomb. Have you ever heard of Pyrrhus, King of Epirus? While you're marauding across time you might look him up."

"Wit, Doctor?" Dr. Simeon asks, "Your jokes are as hollow as your attempts at deception. When you die, who will be left to protect your friends?"

The Doctor hesitates, but then his uncertainty is replaced by pride, by swinging katanas, impossible friendships, and love strong enough to hold back gods.

"They can protect themselves."

"And the moments I spend extracting my mental energies from your corpse will buy them time to run and hide. Yes, I see."

The walls fade and the real world reasserts itself. The Doctor pries the black-gloved fingers away from his face, but the moment he bought was not long enough. His friends didn't have time to run; would never have run in any case. They stand watching, not realizing how defenceless they all are, because there are some sacrifices he is not prepared to make. Even for them.

The Whisper Men lean forward, chattering their rhymes and memes, eager to learn what information their main aspect has gleaned from the Doctor's mind. Dr. Simeon does not disappoint them, because now he knows the Doctor's weakness, and how to make him suffer. Even if the Doctor does not give in, he will _suffer_.

"The Doctor's companions — stop their hearts."

* * *

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
This story archived at <http://www.whofic.com/viewstory.php?sid=51167>


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